The many sides of Grell Sutcliffe
by SilverShadowstorm
Summary: There is more than what meets the eye when it comes to a certain eccentric reaper. Alas, not everything is as it seems for the transgender. Now, she battles her past and present, while trying not to fall in love with a certain demon. As the story unfolds every side unknown about Grell shall be revealed, exposing her to the world and into new possibilities.


William T. Spears was a Grim Reaper of little patience- short fused, if you will. And as of the past five minutes, that little patience that the reaper held was being stretched to its limit. The pacing of angry footsteps could probably be heard from the hallway outside his office, but he paid it no heed. He really hoped that the red-headed whirlwind of a shinigami he was awaiting would arrive soon, or he'd have to take drastic measures he might later regret.

Thankfully for both parties of reapers, the red blur that was known as Grell Sutcliffe burst into the small office; red hair flaming behind her and the bright red coat following suit. A smile was drawn on the reaper's pale face, cheeks flushed from running. "You wanted to see me, Will?" Her hands were posed upon her hips in a casual manner, ringed eyes glowing curiously at him. William sighed, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. "Yes, yes I did." He deadpanned, already exhausted by the day's work and what was to come ahead. A hand signaled for Grell to take a seat in one of the simple chairs by the dark wood desk. She did so without further comment, sensing the other's serious - _deadly serious_- aura. "Mr. Sutcliff, there is a matter of high-"

"_Miss_ Sutcliffe, please." A low hiss accompanied that thought. William relented. "Miss Sutcliffe, there is a highly important matter that I'd like to talk to you about." The reaper's pose perked up at that, before remembering a rather unpleasant thought and slouching in her chair. "Before you say any more, I was not responsible for the mixing up in the folders! I tried to tell Ronnie not to do it, but he just wouldn't listen!"

The look that passes the black-haired man's face held surprise and a tinge of something else. "Ronald did _what_ to _my_ files?" His voice was dangerously low, making Grell wonder if she'd be hit by her superior once more. Trying to hide her fear, she only let a sheepish grin cover her face. "Well, uh…" William sighed again, this time, in annoyance. "No matter, I'll see to that later. I have a more important task to talk to you about at the moment." Grell looked up from where she had been fumbling with the chains of her glasses with interest. William never 'set her up for the important stuff'. He must be desperate, was a thought that made way into her mind.

"Really? What about, dear?" In her interest on the subject, the reaper's lips parted into the typical cheshire smile, awaiting the fun - and hopefully blood- that was to be had. To her dismay, William's voice revealed no such promises. His stern gaze crushed any thoughts of future enjoyment.

"There has been a recent development amongst the Reaper Investigators." he started, sitting down on his own chair. "They've seemed to to have… misplaced… an ancient Death Scythe, one with great hidden power." Grell considered the information. It was all pretty silly. "So what? They plan on sending some idiot in search for the long-lost mystery Death Scythe to retrieve it?" She asked sarcastically. For the first time since assuming his current position, William allowed the ghost of a smile to appear on his face. Needless to say, Grell was quite discouraged by that.

"Will!? You don't mean-?"

"Oh yes, I do mean just that, Grell."

Grell's ringed orbs widened. "So… so, what? You'll send me to look for it like a dog playing fetch? I have reaping to do! I can't -"

"It has already been decided. The council has given the order. You and Undertaker will be sent to Germany to go in search of the Death Scythe. There will be no detours and there will be no questions nor complaints. Have I made myself clear, Mr. Sutcliffe?" Fearing William's wrath, Grell nodded in consentment.

"Yes, Will." She sighed, bowing her head. She was never fond of leaving her home. William knew that, but he didn't seem to care. If he was smiling a while ago, then did that mean he was happy to see her off?

"When do Undertaker and I leave?" William's accumulating ire subsided. "Tomorrow morning. _On time._ Be at your office at your normal schedule. Undertaker should be here by then. You'll have a short briefing on the important details and after that you should be on your way." Once again, Grell nodded - it seemed to be the only thing she could do. "I have paperwork to attend to, as do you. You'd better get to it, for everything better be handed in tomorrow."

"Oh.., yes, Will." And with downcast eyes, the usually flamboyant reaper took a silent leave. She knew it, he was happy because of her; because of her _leaving_.

Soon, the redhead found herself deep in thought. In less than 24 hours, she'd be sent of to another country in search of an ancient relic of great importance to her people. Shouldn't she be happy? Wouldn't that normally be considered an honour? She would be able to go see new sights, meet new reapers, and people. It was such an opportunity, but she couldn't bring herself to feel half the excitement she knew she could feel.

She chastised herself before moving on with her work. It'd be a pain to finish everything up upon her return. Well, if she returned, that is. Grell wasn't as simple-minded as people tended to think of her. She had sneaked into one of the higher-ups' offices and had taken a file on the missing Death Scythe. After some research, she had already learnt more of the Scythe's elusive, mysterious nature.

There was a picture of the Death Scythe. It was like any other normal scythe, black for the pole and silver for the blade. Intricate designs were weaved into it, a darker silver at the top and bottom of the pole. The scythe in itself was very simple, and quite frankly nothing special. Yet, upon further research, it was revealed that the scythe would only serve one reaper at a time; it had that wielder and that one alone, meaning that whomever held it last was bound to be dead. Another detail that piqued Grell's interest was the fact that the scythe was a shifter. It would bend and transfor at its master's will into any weapon form the master desired. Obviously, to obtain such weapon, the reaper in question would have to undergo arduous, life-threatening tasks. This was the part that made Grell worry.

_Just what kind of things will I be forced to do? What will I have to give up in order to obtain a legendary scythe that will not belong to me in the end?_ A frown edged itself into her face. _Do they want to get rid of me? Am I really that worthless and replaceable?_ This wasn't the first time thoughts like those would invade the transgender reaper's mind. No sooner than these thoughts came alight a dam inside her opened, releasing every horrible thought the shinigami had ever had of herself. Every insecurity took a tight hold on her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes and Grell had the sudden urge to vomit. Sniffing, she tried to calm herself. But oh, why was it so hard! Once the darkness took root it was almost impossible to keep it at bay.

Having no other means to escape her darkness, Grell pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a special vial with a sharp edge. She wiped her tears and went to the door, making sure the lock was shut tightly. Returning to the desk, she contemplated the vile. It was quite simple, really. Just a plain metal cylinder with a base so it could stand on its own. One of the sides was sharp, and it was this side that Grell used to rub against the skin of her left wrist. Beads of crimson slowly ticked down the smooth cut, falling, falling, falling- just like her. _Pain is good. I like the pain. I can deal with it. Pain is good._ The drops fell into the vial. It wasn't fast enough. A deeper scratch was etched into her skin. _Pain is good, I like the pain. I need it, I want it. It makes me feel. _More blood began to pour out, and soon, the vial was filled. Taking a cloth from her desk, Grell wiped clean the cut, erasing all evidence of ever harming herself. Her mantra ceased. There were no scars. Flawless skin was all there was. Flawless like the mask she hid behind.

Placing the vial on the desk, Grell used her own blood as ink to write. The things she wrote were hers. The blood was hers. How poetical it was, to call on her blood as a mean of escape. She wrote and wrote, penning down all of her feelings. Every last word was jotted down aggressively, pen almost tearing through the paper.

She ripped it all out and threw the papers away in a fit of rage. Letting out a frustrated cry, the reaper buried her face onto the desk, finally tired of the overwhelming feelings that seemed to consume her. She cried, sobs wracking her body uncontrollably. Wave after wave came coming at Grell, diminishing what little self-respect she was holding on to. She wrote one last note, making sure to pocket it.

She hadn't come to terms with what she had to do just yet. No, it was hard. She needed to stay. This, despite anything, was her home. William and the others were sending her and Undertaker to a certain death. But that's just what the powerful ones did, right? Get rid of the lesser, useless ones. She growled. This was not to her liking! It would interfere - no, completely ruin, them. She needed to be here in England, she was so close to completing it! This was more than just being kicked out to a possible (if not certain) death. Those plans, they were everything to her! She raged, nails clawing the underside of her desk. This was not what she expected, but she had long learned to play the cards she was dealt with.

_What are my cards? _She thought, entwining her hands behind her neck and leaning back on the chair. _I am to leave to Germany to search for an ancient Death Scythe. One very important, it seems._ That would mean that all her preparations and things would be left alone. She couldn't risk that. Those had taken centuries to gather and put up as she had them. But at the same time, if she managed to get the Death Scythe, ever if just for a few moments and study it, it would be enough. The pros outweighed the cons. William had unknowingly given her the key to her victory.

It would seem that now would be a good time to visit the Phantomhive Manor. Her dearest 'Bassy' had something she craved for, and he would give it to her, just like he always did. That would surely bring up her sore spirit. That doing as William ordered was a great benefit for her plans did not mean it stopped hurting. The thought "_Do they want to get rid of me? Am I really that worthless and replaceable?_" echoed in her mind. She quickly pushed it back. No use in thinking that now.

With a clear mind, she picked up the vile, storing it in the coats pocket and storming out the door with her usual flamboyancy. She greeted everyone with a fake smile - so perfected, it seemed natural for the reaper to hide it all with such ease.

Soon enough, she arrived at the Phantomhive premises, wandering along the gardens. Her initial intentions were to see Sebastian - as they always were- but that could wait. The gardens were lovely, and he would come anyway, like he always did. Come to shoo her off the second he sensed her presence. Bassy at least had the decency to ask what she was up to before getting down to violence.

She walked in a bit further, encountering herself with the Demon Hound, Pluto. Grell stopped on her tracks, adopting a relaxed position. Such a sweet thing it was, loving its masters unconditionally. That's what Grell liked about dogs; their loyalty. The dog came over to her quietly, noticing her lack of threatening appearance. He sniffed her and instantly read all her emotions. Despite his dog species, Pluto was well aware of all the human emotions and on how these affected the people. He smelt the hurt and the pain radiation off the Grim Reaper. He smelt her hidden fears. He smelt the secrets she hid. He was instantly drawn.

Deciding that she'd be of no threat to his family, Pluto lay himself next to Grell, curling his warm body around her in a comforting manner. He liked her. She smelt nice, and a bit like home; much like the unkind butler he adored. Completely baffled by the hound's behaviour, Grell started to pet the beast's muzzle. She was met with contented growls from it. Her cravings ebbed away with its presence. She pet him, smoothing her hands down it's large head.

'He will be perfect, if I can get him to be mine.' He was a much better fix than Sebastian. He lay there submissively, letting her absorb it. What Sebastian gave away unknowingly, the Demon Hound gave with will and with abundance. She soaked it in, soon becoming absorbed in the liberating feeling. He decided she was good. She stroked his fur and told him pretty things. He knew what she wanted, and she promised him a great reward of he helped in her plans. These didn't involve the Phantomhive's, so he readily accepted. They lavished in the other's company, eager for the escape it brought.

Both creatures were enjoying themselves so much they didn't notice the tall figure approaching them. Not even after clearing his throat -twice- did the pair take notice of him. Sebastian was miffed. Usually, these were the two creatures that would be at his feet the moment they saw him… not that he was complaining. This was a rather pleasing surprise, yet there was a matter to be resolved. Why in the nine rings of hell was Grell cuddling a Demon Hound at such ungodly of the night in his young master's garden? Being the hell of a butler that he is, Sebastian instantly asked instead of beating around the bush. He'd be damned if he let the reaper stay.

"Grell? May I inquire as to what you are doing here at this late hour?" Hearing his voice, the shinigami's head piped up from being under the dog's silken fur. It took her a moment to realize what was happening, and another to pull the act together. _Such terrible timing, Sebas-chan_. "Oh Bassy~! Why I came to see you of course!" The cheshire smile came into place, masking whatever sadness she had confessed to the hound, as well as the other plans. She heard Sebastian sigh in annoyance, making her brittle heart gain another crack. She knew she wasn't wanted here. She wasn't wanted anywhere, so why did this affect her so? _This may have not been my best idea, but sadly, it was the only option. _

"You do know that my Young Master dislikes you and would rather not have you around, right?" At this, Grell frowned, letting out a scoff. She pet Pluto once more as she stood. "What your master doesn't know won't kill him. Besides, he doesn't know I'm here." She turned to the dog and whispered sweet nothings into its ears as she pet him. The hound growled in approval. He'd take care of her secret. He had such a silly master for not knowing the truth.

"And anyways at this hour, it's not your Young Master that doesn't want me here. Am I right, demon?" Not intending on baring pain or try to keep her secrets, Grell spat that out and ran, leaving behind a whining Demon Hound and a completely baffled butler.

'_Such an airhead he can be~'_ thought Pluto, resuming his posture and watching a miffed Sebastian head back to the mansion. '_Not to worry, "Reaper", I have already chosen. I am yours.'_

Grell walked into her office at her scheduled time, only late by a couple of minutes. She was exhausted, her movements sluggish and red-rimmed glasses askew, almost falling off her nose. For the first time, she didn't care that she wasn't up to her usual standards in terms of her appearance. After leaving the Demon Hound and narrowly escaping with her secret intact from 'Bassy', she'd had a rough and lonely night. She picked the mirror that she always carried with her. A lady must always look her best, after all. 'Stressed, but well dressed', she thought. It might only be William and Undertaker she would be meeting, but that was no excuse to slack off on her appearance. Fixing herself quickly, Grell made sure that she was as impeccable as ever.

She opened the door to her office, easily spotting the two reapers. One was sitting on the chairs - ever the perfect image of a gentleman. The other lay casually on her desk, pretending to be dead. Any other day this might have the redhead freaked out, but not today. Today she was somber, a prisoner awaiting the gallows. In spite of that, she gave both men her usual, flirty greetings, taking a seat in her chair behind the desk.

"Good morning m'lady. I do hope yer up to some good searchin' these next weeks." Undertaker giggled, hiding his smile under the sleeves of his robe. "Why of course! I'd probably get to find more than what I'm looking for!" Her tone was excited, and William couldn't help but smile to himself at the other's apparent happiness. He was stoic, not cold-hearted, and somewhere deep within him, he admittedly had a soft spot for the redhead; the only one he really could call a friend. Despite all her mishaps. Undertaker on the other hand, didn't seem so convinced, but let it slide for the time being. He'd have enough time to figure out the intriguing reaper.

They were quickly filled in by William and were soon sent to the station to part for the outskirts of Berlin. With a last goodbye to the ones she really could call friends - Ronnie, Will, Alan and Eric- she boarded the train beside Undertaker, both unsure of their adventure to come.

"Come on, miss. Berlin awaits with a new future in store." One last glance at the reapers was spared. She took the Undertaker's hand offered hand and left.

_**Hey guys, what's up? Hehehe, aaaanyyways, here I've brought you the revised edition of this story's first chapter. I really felt the other one had holes in the plot and since (I think) fanfiction is what I'm best at I'm really picky with what I post. I liked the original, but I feel that this version is waaay better. I do hope you enjoy reading this story~! If you do, or even if you don't, make sure to leave a review! Those are always appreciated!**_

_**Smiles :)**_


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